Mistakes
by Bottlebrush
Summary: A look at what might have been on Sirius Black's mind in the time leading up to the Potters' deaths. SBRL Slash.


Title: Mistakes

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potter world or its characters. J. K. Rowling does.

Summary: A look at what might have been in Sirius's mind in the time leading up to the Potters' deaths and the downfall of Voldemort in October 1981. Slash SBRL.

It seemed in those days that whenever two or three of us were together, there was an argument. This time, James was on my side, and Lily was the dissenter. I had been explaining my plan to let Peter be the Potters' secret-keeper instead of me, and James saw the point at once, but Lily looked very doubtful.

"Dumbledore's offered to do it," she said. "Why not let him?"

I spelled it out for her: we weren't kids any more, we didn't need a grown-up to look after us, we could see to things ourselves. Dumbledore had made the offer, yes, but he would think less of us if we accepted it. He was probably testing us to see if we would jump at the chance of having a big father-figure take care of our problems for us. James nodded agreement; he could see the sense in what I said, but Lily wasn't convinced.

"This isn't some game," she objected. "It's our lives on the line, and more important, Harry's life. Dumbledore wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it. And if Remus were here I'm sure he would agree with me."

"Just as well he isn't, then," I said, "or we would have a stalemate."

"Why isn't he here, anyway?" Lily asked.

"According to what we agreed, this means we accept Peter's offer to be secret-keeper. I'll let him know right away," I said.

James frowned. "You haven't answered Lily's question," he said.

I should have known nobody got away with ignoring Lily when James was around.

"I don't know where Moony is," I said. "I don't know where he is half the time these days. Anyway, there's no reason he should be here, it's nothing to do with him. No need for him to even know about it."

Lily looked about to protest, but James said "He's right, Lily. Can't be too careful now. The fewer people know, the better."

"We know _somebody's_ been passing information to the other side," I added.

"Not Remus," Lily said. "I'll never believe that."

"I hope you're right," I answered. "But we've eliminated just about everyone else."

I left James and Lily, pleased I had got my way about Peter, but depressed over having to face up to my worry about Remus.

Looking back, I cannot point to the day, or the month, when things started to go wrong between us. It was so gradual. For years, more than five years, everything had been good. We were together and in love, and that was all that seemed to matter. Then the power and menace of Voldemort grew, and with that the responsibilities and duties which were laid on us, and which slowly drove a wedge between us. We were forbidden to speak to anyone of the work that we did for the Order of the Phoenix, and Remus, dear conscientious Remus, obeyed, keeping silence even with me. But there were things only a few of us knew, and those secrets were being somehow made known to the Enemy.

Peter, who for some reason liked to meet me every week for a chat and a drink, reminded me that Remus's best subject at school had been Defence Against the Dark Arts, and that he had always taken a special interest in that side of magic. And Remus had a part in the Darkness; had for most of his life been of the creatures whose nature was not wholly human, who walked a path open and vulnerable to the other side. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with an expression of sorrow, as if he mourned me; I asked him once, lightly, "Why the gloomy face?" He replied that he feared for my safety when he was not with me, which was reasonable enough, given the times we lived in. And yet ……

And yet when we were both at home at the same time, when we were safe and warm in our bed, he was as loving and giving as he had ever been. At these times, I knew I would trust him with my life, because love like that is not counterfeit. But it wasn't my life at stake; it was James's life, and Lily's, and Harry's, and I had no right to take any chances with those lives. However small the voice of doubt was, I had to listen to it. Sometimes it was a whisper; sometimes it shouted at me: _He is a werewolf, he is a Dark Creature, he leans naturally to the Darkness._

So I gave Peter the Potters' secret, and told no-one else. Not Dumbledore, not Remus, no-one. And I thought I had surely done the right thing, because no-one would ever guess little Peter held such a great secret within him.

Remus was at home, already in bed, when I came in and started to undress. He was sitting up, looking at me, and he held out one hand to me, with a tentative, hopeful smile. How different things had been only a few months before; then he would hold out both arms, confidently, certain of my response. Now he was unsure of his welcome, and that had to be my fault; I had done that to him, destroyed his confidence with my suspicions.

I joined him in the bed and embraced and kissed him, but what I did then – it was love, it could never not be love between me and him, but it was other things too. It was me trying to bend him to my will, in desperation trying to use sex to possess him, to bind him to me for ever. I was rough and I hurt him, so that when it was over I felt sickened and ashamed. I got up from him and sat on the edge of the bed, wishing I were somewhere else but lacking the motivation to go. And then he was beside me, touching my face, his fingers like moths' wings on my cheek, my brow.

"What is it, love? Can't you tell me what's troubling you?" he said gently.

That was my Remus. _I_ had hurt _him_, but his voice, his face, were full of concern for _me_.

I looked into his eyes, and, as it had happened before, I thought I saw into his soul, saw something wholly clean and innocent. And the voice inside me said it _had_ to be an illusion, it was false, he was evil, a monster, and probably always had been. I turned away from him and lay down, covering my face with my hands, but he was there behind me and I turned to him again, clinging to him like a baby monkey clinging to its mother, and he stroked my hair, murmuring words of love and reassurance.

When I awoke he was sleeping. In these days his sleeping face was not peaceful; it bore a frown of anxiety. I got up quietly, not to wake him, and when I was dressed and ready to go, I stood over him, speaking silently in my head.

I will win you back. Back from the Darkness. It shall not have you. Even if Voldemort has corrupted you, you shall not live and die in his service. I have to go now, to check on Peter, but I will come back, and then I will stay with you until you are mine again and we are one in the Light.

With my promise, my resolve, firm in my mind, I went out to find Peter.


End file.
